Time Is Just an Illusion

After much contemplation, I’ve come to the conclusion
that time is just an illusion.
For once my years marked ten, growing took twice as long,
and age turned all wrong.
So at fifteen, I felt but twelve.. And a half,
and the rest is just a laugh.
Because I didn’t turn fifteen until I was twenty,
and I won’t make twenty until I’m thirty.
Though age demands I take responsibilities,
my heart is still full of possibilities.
I may have a mortgage, insurance, and a loan—
all the proof I’m a woman grown—
I still feel as if I need adult supervision
and someone to give permission.
Perhaps I’ll have to wait until I’m fifty
to feel like an adult at thirty.
I must conclude that once I’m seventy and preparing for an ending,
I’ll be but forty and still beginning.

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Stillness Vs. Nothing

“Being still and doing nothing are two very different things.”

Being still is having confidence that God is in control of all life’s circumstances.

Doing nothing is the depression of circumstances outside of your control.

Being still is walking on from hardship knowing you have grown.

Doing nothing is letting your hardships cripple and overwhelm you.

Being still is listening as wisdom guides you on when to speak and when to keep silent.

Doing nothing is deafness to any council .

Stillness is a time of healing and recovery.

Nothing is a time of emptiness and worry.

Stillness is a conscious decision to wait.

Nothing is a missed opportunity to act.

Stillness moves on.

Nothing stands still.

Oh by the way, the quote at the beginning was a Jackie Chan quote. It was from the 2010 Karate Kid.

Shadows, a Caffeine Induced Tale of the Night

Sitting alone in the dark, awake because sleep has fled, the shadows live. In the corner of your eye, a figure passes the window. Or is the cat on the ledge? What is it that lives in the darkness? Is it a nameless whisper that grabs your ankles when you’re awakened by a dream? Is it a lonely creature that only wants a friend? Is it a hungry swarm that leaves haunted skeletons, endlessly echoing their final words?

No.

Listen, my friend, for I am the nightlight by your bed. I watch over you as you sleep, and the shadows are my children. Without me, there would be no shadows. They do not come to harm, though much they do hide. The velvety cloak of night masks the world to set you free. When blinded we are by hard-edged light, we cannot see potential. We only see what is. The black canvas of the night paints many pictures, both good and bad.

The shadows are the possibilities of the night bleeding into your world of light. Do not think of them as fiends and specters, but mischievous sprites, determined to mislead or enchant, it matters not which. If you take their hands, what dreams you may have! Is that shadow in your eye a monstrous nightmare? Or a fairy tale sneaking you off to magic lands? Who knows!

Changes

So recently, a friend of mine, from Twirling in the Rain, reminded me that she had a blog, which, in turn, reminded me that I have a blog. It has not yet been a full year since my last post, so I don’t feel too bad. But anyway.

The impetus for this post is a poorly timed coffee, the insomnia brought on as a result, my very nature, and my whirling thoughts.

I’ve said before that I’m an all-or-nothing sort of person. Either my life is completely falling apart or it’s completely put together. Right now it’s on the “completely put together” end of the spectrum, which includes picking up the things I’ve neglected for way too long (i.e., my blog). But in putting my life back together, I feel as if I tried to take off running without realizing that I’ve had my feet tied down—like in a slapstick comedy where the hapless hero or bad guy falls flat on his face.

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Dance, Kittens, Dance: A Fur-baby Story

As promised in my last post, “Updating Life,” this is the story of our two Meezers, Jitterbug and Lindyhop, but mostly about Jitterbug.

I found Jitters first. I’d been checking every place I could think of for potential fur-babies.

sophie-prejitters
“Sophie” in the shelter

Pretty quickly I found PetFinder. Great website because it partners with a lot of shelters and you can search by animal, breed, age, gender, and distance. Jitters was listed as Sophie and was quite a ways away (a good two hour drive at least), but she was absolutely gorgeous so I had to give her shelter a call.

The lady that ran the shelter was honest with me.

She felt that Jitters would never be a social cat. Jitters wouldn’t interact with her at all and would hiss when she would try to pet her. She’d never bitten the lady, but then, the lady hadn’t really given her the opportunity. We could have her for free, but it was with the understanding that we would never have a nice friendly cat that would cuddle and purr. Her history was largely unknown, except that she’d been found with her sister, Suki, and brought to the shelter.

Well, I wasn’t daunted by that, and neither was my roommate. My family had once said I could tame bobcats, and I doubted I’d lost that touch. And besides, free Siamese cat. Look at her, she’s gorgeous! So we made the drive.

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Updating Life

I would be the first to admit that I’m not the best at finishing things. It’s been approximately 3 months since my last post and I have no less than 8 drafts of posts that are all but finished, barely started, just an idea, or multiple versions of the same thing that I can’t figure out which to use. Those same 8 drafts have been there for the past 3 months, completely untouched. I haven’t even opened WordPress in that time.

Was the break intentional? Initially, but it wasn’t meant to be prolonged.

I had had grand plans of taking the entire month of November (NaNoWriMo) and all my free time therein to finish (or come close to finishing) Freak Accidents (because I actually do have an end in mind), but something happened somewhere in the middle of November that made me too excited to accomplish those grand plans.

My life updated. A friend needed a roommate and I realized that it was financially feasible for me to move out. We decided we’d move at the end of December.

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